


Rose Tinted Dreams

by Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins



Category: Rockman | Mega Man Classic
Genre: Crying, One Big Happy Family, Sad Ending, dream - Freeform, missing Son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 00:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11264040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins/pseuds/Dildo_Swaggins_T_Baggins
Summary: Everything is perfect in Thomas' life.Inspired by 'Game of Tones' Episode from Futurama.The song Manchild by Eels makes me cry so much.





	Rose Tinted Dreams

He yawned, blinking away the sleep, sitting up slowly in his bed, the covers rolling off of him. He was alone in the bed, never had time for a wife, but he did have time for his children. Smiling as he heard the sounds of his three kids downstairs. It didn’t take long for him to put on his slippers, or his robe, lazily brushing his teeth.

“Oh come on!” Roll whined downstairs.

“Give it back!” Rock yelled.

“Make me.”

Thomas snickered imagining Blues holding something up in the air and sticking out his tongue in such a childish manner. Spitting out the toothpaste and tying his robe together before stepping out of his room. Thomas turned back to close the door, seeing a framed photo, it was of him and Blues, the day he came into the world. Blues look a little confused, but happy all the same as Thomas nearly choked him in a hug, confetti sprinkled over their hair, smiles and all. Thomas only wished that Albert (who took the photo) could share his happiness.

Quickly he shrugged off the grief, closing his door, alerting Rush that he was awake, the armourless mut jogged up, wagging his tail and jumping up, licking Thomas’ nose. “Morning boy, who’s a good boy?” He said in a childish tone, making the dog’s ears flop back and forth with his hands as he scratched the dog's head. Rush pulled back, taking his normal side next to Thomas, who now and then pet the dog when they walked.

Thomas looked into the kitchen, his eyes widening as he saw his tree kids play fighting. Blues was holding a massive bag of flour over his head, sticking out his tongue, as Roll clung to his arm and Rock fought against Blues’ foot that was on his face. Thomas chuckled, all three kids looked up at him. “Morning.” Thomas waved, walking over to Blues reaching for the flour.

“Morn-” Blues started but stopped as the flour opened when Thomas pulled a small string and the powder covered all of his kids.

“DADDY!” Roll yelled, shaking herself free from the flour, spitting it out.

“Got you!” Rock said, finally hugging Blues.

“DAD!” Blues yelled louder then the twins, his mass of hair drooping due to the flour, he wasn’t able to brush it as Rock hugged him so hard that he couldn’t move his arms.

“Good, Rock keep him there, Roll once you’re cleaned up you mind helping me cook?” Thomas turned to his little girl.

Roll spat out another chunk of wet flour. “Sure daddy.” She smiled, then shook her head like a dog creating a small cloud of flour.

Thomas nodded to her. “Boys, what sounds good?”

Blues groaned trying to wiggle out of Rock’s grip. “I was gonna make pancakes.”

“And we were trying to help!” Rock said his voice muffled by Blues’ flour caked shirt.

“Well, you two can help clean up the kitchen.”

“What?” Rock and Blues said in unison, they really were alike, then again Rock instantly attached himself to Blues when he was first activated. Thomas instantly regretted having two boys, they played in the mud, brought home frogs, and even got Roll into trouble, even his sweet little Roll who loved flowers and cooking came home with snakes in her pockets. But he loved them, even if he woke up wiht make up on his face.

“You two heard me, now go wash up and get the vacuum.” He waved them off.

The boys groaned as all three of his kids walked out of the kitchen, leaving Thomas to dig up a pancake respite. Eggs, more flour, milk, all of the piling up ingredients on the table. Moments later he heard his family bumbling down the stairs, all of them piling up in front of the kitchen.

Thomas smiled, pulling out a frying pan, Roll took her stand by the stove, the boys got the vacuum. He mixed happily watching Rock and Blues slap one another with the flour as they cleaned. “You know you two are washing your clothes.”

Rock groaned, grabbing another handful and shoving it into Blues’ face.

Blues shook his hair again, grabbing a few handfuls of flour and slapping white handprints on Rock.

Roll rolled her eyes, flipping another pancake, pouring a new one onto the pan. Thomas grabbed a handful of flour cupping the top of Roll’s head. “Daddy!” She squeaked, trying to shake it all off. Pouting at her dad, only to burst into laughter, Rock and Blues joined in giggling, he smiled, watching his family, he loved them every one of them.

 

It was late now, the day slipped by too quickly for him, Blues walked by his side, whistling, odd his tune was a little off, his hands deep in his leather coat’s pockets. The sun was setting, it was pretty, the clouds purple and orange. The air was wet like it had rained, and it had, a few lighting bugs buzzing around. Thomas stopped, resting his forearms on the bridge they were on, starting out.

Blues stopped walking on, turning slowly, returning to Thomas, his forearms too on the railing, his hands wound together. “You’re never quiet when we go on walks.”

Thomas blinked, his eyes watering for some reason. “I can’t remember your tune anymore…”

Blues didn’t turn to look at him. “That’s alright.”

“No,” Thomas shook his head, his heart hurt, grabbing onto Blues’ shoulder. “It’s not alright...Blues I can’t remember…”

Blues smiled softly. “Maybe that’s for the best, you are getting old.”

Thomas’ shoulders sunk again. “How can it be for the best?”

Blues seemed to shrink. “Think about it, I’m not needed here, in your mind or in your heart. I’m a mistake, and people need to forget their mistakes for the better, for your children.”

“Blues…” His eyes were watering. “You were never a mistake, and you’ll never be forgotten, you’re my son.” He felt the stinging liquid drip down his cheeks, hugging his oldest son. “And I love you.”

“I know dad, I know…”

Thomas held onto his son, trying to remember the tune, trying to whistle it, yet his mouth was dry and no air came from his lungs. He clung to that leather jacket, the one he got for Blues 15 birthday, trying to remember that laugh, trying to smile one last time. “I don’t want to forget.”

“I know...I know dad...dad…”

 

Thomas gasped, sitting up too fast his mind spinning, blinking a few times, his heart sunk lower in his chest, the lump forming in his mouth, even if he found his mouth was dry. His bedroom looked the same, but it was night, the moon still out. Thomas got to his feet, watching his footing in the nightlight. Creaking the door open slowly making sure to not wake up the twins.

Slowly he inched to the farthest room, stopping at the door, the red door that haunted him for years now. Pulling the key from his neck and unlocking it, he didn’t want anyone else in this room.

It was dusty, the bed, the floor the dresser, some of the posters, everything was dusty, so dusty he could see his old footprints. He came in here whenever he had that dream, it didn’t help with the grieve, it made it worse, but he couldn’t help it. Sitting on the bed, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. His mouth was still dry, he tried again, yet the tune fell flat, far from how Blues whistled.

He licked his lips, unable to think of the tune anymore, hanging his head in shame. He wanted a lot in his life, a successful job, a nice house, a loving family, but most of all the one thing he wanted back was his son. He wiped away the tears, sniffling quietly he didn’t want to wake up the twins, if he did he couldn’t explain to them about this room, or why he was crying, or who Blues was.

It took awhile, deep breaths and heartfelt thoughts comforted him, Thomas twisted to the pillow, his eyes red, a lump in his throat. He leaned down, kissing the pillow as if it was a child’s forehead. “Goodnight Blues.” He tried to swallow yet nothing worked anymore, sadness was the only feeling he had left. Getting to his feet slowly, inching towards the door, not before he looked back at the bed, sighing, trying to calm down. “I love you too son…” His throat hurt, the lump growing. “And I miss you…” Thomas blinked the tears away, turning away as he closed the door.


End file.
